“Return Of The Mack” And Mark Morrison—The Original Bad Boy

Words: Jesse Bernard

1997 was well and truly the year of the bad boy. Biggie died March that year but still, Bad Boy rose. MJ won another championship with the Bulls. Clinton wasn’t having sexual relations with anyone but his wife. A white rapper from Detroit amazed rap. The Gallaghers were probably getting under somebody’s skin, just because. It was also the year Mark Morrison released his immovable hit, “Return Of The Mack”. Immovable and indomitable because, despite it being 21 years since its release, its creator is an enigma. His legal troubles stalled his progress, following up with a string of equally hitting singles.

This was Britain in 1997. The future of Labour was on the horizon and not a reality at that point. And from the media reaction to Morrison carrying a stun-gun on a flight, his career was only going to go one way. In 1998, The Independent described public sympathy towards Mark Morrison being limited due to previous legal issues. That and the old ~race~ thing. And for the enigma he now is, in many ways, Morrison represents the other side of the coin that Giggs was once on. It leaves a somber feeling knowing that, somewhere, Morrison is just trying to keep his head above water while “Return Of The Mack” is more or less a black British anthem; one of those black legacy songs which don’t come around often.

To measure its influence on us today, a video of Bobby Shmurda dancing to it in the “Hot Nigga” video exists on YouTube. There’s the nostalgic element that comes with “Return Of The Mack”. Its American R&B influence made it the perfect song to go transatlantic and, to put it into context, this was during the height of the Bad Boy era. The R&B scene in the States was already crowded with Jodeci, Faith Evans, Mary, 112, and those were just the Bad Boy/Uptown affiliates. It reached No. 2 on the Billboard Hot 100 and No. 4 on the Hip-Hop/R&B Chart in June ‘97—“MMMBop” by Hanson topped the chart that week. Competition at the time was incredibly strong, not just in the R&B space but the wider pop one too.

There have been many occasions where British artists have gained notoriety Stateside, but the last two great moments in recent years would arguably be Ella Mai’s “Boo’d Up” (which featured a sample from Tevin Campbell’s “Can We Talk?”) and Estelle’s 2008 hit, “American Boy”, featuring a pre-Kardashian Kanye. An element of each hit’s success is critically down to its appeal to American audiences, but with that, they gave British fans a greater appreciation. Much of the pop culture we consumed in our youth was given to us through an American scope and that otherness is what has already made it seem more attractive. Culturally, that was still impactful considering the lasting effect the ‘90s had on many of us. I was perhaps too young to really consider the world heading into a new millenium, the internet already a baby giant and AOL being the number one provider—hold tight the free CDs.

As the song began to take flight overseas, the singer served three months in prison for gun possession, after attempting to board a flight with one. If the ‘80s created the lone wolf, macho archetype in pop culture, the ‘90s did so for the urban outlaw.

Mark Morrison fit the profile, and although that wasn’t the reason for his success—in fact, his troubles never evaded him—it did mythologise him in a sense. Particularly when you consider the fact that “Return Of The Mack” was his last hit. Had he been American, his legal troubles may have granted him even more notoriety. And perhaps being in Britain, which has historically never been kind to outlaws, didn’t allow him to thrive despite his legal troubles. It would’ve made him the perfect R&B/rap crossover star in the mid-1990s, a crooner with history of brushes with the law. Mark Morrison—for the youngest of millennials—had already become an enigma, but the lasting impact of his hit song remained solid. It had become a legacy song off the back of its ‘90s-ness and was a reminder of a time when I shouldn’t have known what ‘knocking the boots’ implied. I can see why it wasn’t the most appealing to some, but I couldn’t imagine a world where it didn’t exist. And by no means am I being ironic.

Giggs and Mark Morrison. One eventually evaded a life of crime due to circumstance and prospered beyond his own reckoning, while the other fell victim to a cycle that even black celebrities can’t escape. And it’s because of these reasons why Giggs is celebrated. Someone like him isn’t supposed to do well, and there have been many occasions where life has attempted to clip his wings. He’s the Frank Castle of UK rap. Circumstance created him and, in many ways, he’s representative of a world that deserves more compassion and understanding than a Daily Mail headline. I’d like to think that, in a parallel universe, Morrison was able to maintain a music career and become the ‘90s legend he was meant to be. But in reality, this tale tells us that some can’t break the cycle and that it takes more than an improvement in financial circumstances but social and emotional, too. Even when done, for the most part, we do it while looking over our shoulders. Time and again, whether it’s death, illness or the law, our artists have always been at the mercy of failure by the establishment. Even in plain sight, they operate by rules learned in environments that don’t often see images of success.

Those artists, such as Giggs and Mark Morrison—despite the former enjoying success at long last—indicate how easily you can fall into the chasm. That’s why we celebrate the bad boys of rap. Robin Hood was working class after all, and despite this country being so fascinated with his lore, a forest-dwelling man sticking it to the bourgeoisie—who doesn’t want that? But we know that when it comes to black Britons, that level of sympathy is rarely afforded.

Posted on September 25, 2018